Voyeur
by rosebud896
Summary: Raoul had heard the voice only she should have heard. Christine knows that her Angel is an imposter. Who is he, and who is he really? E/C Leroux with inspirations from everywhere and no where.
1. Chapter 1

I'm an awful human being and haven't finished my other fics but ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ sorry, here it is. Another fic. EC, Leroux ish...

I reread the book for the first time in like years and completely forgot about like everything and got super inspired when I read that Christine picked up on Erik not being an angel before he actually revealed himself.

This picks up when Christine and Raoul are at the beach where they had met as children and he calls her out on her gentleman caller.

"Tell me everything you heard." My body was trembling but my focus was held fast. I cornered him without knowing it as the tears began to peak in my eyes.

"He said "And I thank you. No emperor ever received so fair a gift. The angels wept tonight."

There was a deafening quiet in my body. Raoul had heard the angel. My angel. My imposter.

I should have been the only one who was able to hear the voice. He assured me. When he first appeared to me he would whisper into my ear while I would walk down hallways or be enjoying a small meal with the rest of the choir. No one heard him. Raoul heard him.

I was so entranced in the chaos in my mind that I ran out of the room to my own at once. The innkeeper had seen my hysterics and knocked at the door. She walked in to find me on my fifth complete recitation of the rosary that I had gripped in my hands. I heard the rustling of Raoul in the room next to mine as he heard the door open to my room.

"I thought I would give you some time, dear, but I wanted to make sure you were alright."

"I'm so sorry but I must leave this instant."

I needed to find the voice. I needed to know who this being was that thought me a child to play tricks on. Cruel tricks. To mimic my fathers promises and sweet tales… I teared up again in the woman's presence as my mind traveled down the path it had been traveling on a loop.

"I'll go wake the stable boy." The woman did not question me and rushed out of the room. I could hear Raoul's door open as the woman left and rushed to the door to lock it as she left so that he would not enter unannounced as I was sure he would do at the moment.

I hurried to pack my small bag that I had brought with me to the beach and wrapped myself in two shawls as I started to realize that my body shook as I prepared to face this being.

A gently knock at the door was all I needed to run out of the room and follow the woman out to the stable.

I swiftly jumped into a cabbie and attempted to calm my mind as the several hour journey ahead would be best if I did not brood.

The attempt was moot.

The hours felt like years but until the cabbie pulled into the quiet early morning stable of the opera house I jumped out as quickly as possible. The sun was not yet close to brightening the sky but the morning doves were beginning to sing softly in the alley.

I ran into the halls and forced myself as my breath ran out. I could not bring air in as I had tied my corset too tightly in my aggression earlier.

I reached my dressing room and dropped the keys as I fiddled with the lock. Again I tried to unlock the door and successfully swung the door open.

I didn't know what I expected to find, or who I expected to find. I found my room entirely empty in darkness. I stepped in and shut the door behind me, locking it.

There was not a sound. I stood by the door as still as I could and listened intently to the empty air filled with only my pained breaths that blew my hair back and forth.

"Ange?" A whisper breathed out from my lips.

Silence.

"Ange?" A roar burst out from my mouth as I threw my shawls off of my body onto the armchair.

The room was completely dark now with the door shut. I ran to my vanity and felt for a match. The snare of the match blended in with my struggled breath.

I ignited the gas lamps in my room to a dim setting and paced trying to figure out where to start. I had not thought through my plans. Surely if the angel were an angel he should be able to come when sensing distress. But if the voice were a man or creature of some other form then if they were not present they would not know to come.

I began with a small bookcase, which was laid flush against my wall since I was assigned the room. I knew that I should not move it due to its immense size but my state gave me strength I did not know I had. It moved with effort applied to show an intact wall. Next I tore at an old poster that had been placed only a month before the voice appeared. Again nothing. I knocked along the walls against it to see if it should sound different. I wasn't sure what I was looking for but I knew that when the wall was empty behind a wall that it would sound different.

Every inch I crept along the wall sounded the same as I rapped against the paneling.

Until.

I knocked on the wall just in between my divider and my mirror. I heard it. The hallow sound. I knocked again and cried out.

My fingers fought to squeeze into some crook that would allow my to pull the panel from the wall but alas the panel would not budge. I knocked along the wall listening to the hallow knocks and continued on the other side of my mirror for another foot until it ceased.

I did not want to move the mirror as it was large and I was aware that it was quite old an had potential to break should I push it incorrectly. My determination was greater than this desire though.

I gently placed my hands on the side of the mirror and attempted to push it, however it would not budge. I pushed my full weight against it yet again it did not move.

I repositioned myself so that I could pull it across. A sweat broke out on my upper lip.

I pulled until my hands slipped from the grip and I stumbled to the floor, foolishly splaying my hand against the glass of the mirror for balance. My sweaty, sticky hand had enough grip on the glass to slide it open. Open.

I felt a cool gust of wind blow onto my heated face. I stumbled to my feat and inspected my discovery.

The mirror slid sideways into the wall itself. The frame of the mirror was built into the wall. I slid the mirror open more to reveal blackness and a stale cold.

An echo of nothingness hit my ears.

Fear rose into my heart as a much more sinister thought reached my mind than the voice being a human imposter.

What else could the imposter of an angel be but a demon? I imagined a monster crawling out of the darkness to snatch me from my dressing room and quickly shut the mirror.

I didn't notice my tears until the mirror was back in its place and showing me my reflection. Red eyes and a red nose were barely visible in the dim light. I turned my vanity away knowing that the path to hell lay on the other side of the vision I was staring at.

I collapsed into the armchair which I had thrown my shawls onto. My tears began to fall out in grotesque sobs as I thought of myself falling fool to a devils game. What was the demons wish with my voice? I couldn't bring myself to understand.

Eventually my exhaustion caught up with me somewhere in the middle of my crying and I fell asleep.

The next I could remember was waking to the light airy melody of the angel. I smiled as I came to. A distant dream of my father and I at the beach had passed through my mind just as I grew aware of the dimly lit dressing room. I gasped and jumped to my feet as the gentle voice embraced me as it had everyday for the past three months.

My tears came back; gentle this time. I loathed myself for the frailness of my emotions.

The voice grew even gentler; I could tell it was trying to comfort me. I wanted none of it. The childlike anger welled up once more in me and I was no longer afraid to face the devil.

"Cease this unholy lie." I sniveled at the ground, balling my hands into fists with my head downturned.

The voice stopped as if it had run full force into a wall. I took my handkerchief and rosary from my pocket and dabbed my eyes. I held tight to the corded beads gifted to me at my first communion.

"Show yourself," I looked right at myself in the mirror.

There was silence.

I squeezed one last time in the silence before I huffed and acted on the impulse of bravery I felt.

I ran to the mirror and slid it open with more speed than I knew I had.

Instead of just the gust of wind meeting me, the lights in the room illuminated so bright that it nearly took away my vision. When the flash finished they extinguished themselves and I found myself in darkness. In cold.

The fear that instilled me sent me backwards but I could not for a thin cool hand snaked around my wrist and held me in place. I pulled back but my strength was dull next to the one pulling me. I tripped a little as I passed through where I believe the barrier between my mirror and the black darkness was. Another firm hand grabbed my waist and steadied me. I began to cry again as I realized I was at the mercy of Lucifer.

"Who are you," I sobbed out, but there was no answer. We moved forward more and began to pick up pace. In the distance a red illumination offered some light. I gasped as I thought I was certainly being led to hell by a demon. Why had I been so stubborn? So stupid? Surely I could have let one of the groundskeepers know about the passageway and had my room changed.

"Hail Mary, full of grace," my fingers found one of the beads. I murmured as low as I could, "the lord is thee." We neared closer to the red light and I could see the stone of the wall next to it. "Blessed art thou among women," I could now see the light was not the fire of hell but the fire of a dim lamp. "And blessed is the fruit of thy womb," another few steps and I could see the pale color of fingers wrapped around the skin of my shaking wrist. "Jesus."

I looked up an could see only two shining eyes staring back into mine and the outline of a black mask. _The opera ghost_.

The bit of red light disappeared as I lost the ability to hold my weight. I was aware of floating and nothing more after that.


	2. Chapter 2

I awoke wrapped in cold. A chilled caress was brushing my cheek and lingered into my hair.

I cried out and snatched the hellish hand in my own to distance it from my face.

A heavy exhale made me snap my head to look in its direction despite that I could not see yet. I squinted then saw the outline of a lightly colored horse.

I looked back toward the figure holding me in its lap. I could see the outlines of the mask. I had been caressed by a ghost. That was why the touch had been so cool. I wondered if my hand would pass right through the man. I let go of the hand and reached forward. My hand cam in contact with a firm chest of a man! The chest rose slowly but highly as if catching breath. I snatched my hand away not knowing what effect I had placed on the man and not wanted to encourage any more.

"Where are we?"

There was no answer on another exhale from the horse. I was helped to my feet only to be picked up again and placed onto the horse. I wondered how strong the man was to pick me up so easily and move me about without any exertion. He did not groan as I had seen the ballet dancers do with the ballerinas in practice, whom were much tinier than my matured body.

I touched the head of the horse and instantly recognized the white mane.

"Ceaser…" I whispered. The horse had gone missing only a few days. I had been most upset by this as I would often go and feed the horse sweets and salt in between practices when I wasn't supposed to. He had become a true companion in replacement to the cat, Ayesha, that I would feed outside the opera house. She had disappeared only a month before.

The man swung himself onto Ceaser just behind myself. I hadn't realized I was shaking from the cold until he wrapped his cloak around myself as well. I still shivered in the safety of the warmth as Ceaser began to walk. The tales that people spoke of the opera ghost always mentioned his swishing cloak that he would use to distract people so that he could disappear. I wondered if he would lead me farther into the labyrinth and abandon me as another cruel joke: a true poltergeist to torture my existence.

I held onto the hand that was wrapped around my abdomen to keep me steady, afraid that if I should let go he would run off and abandon me alone in the darkness with whatever demons lay in the blackness.

We descended down so many stairs I was shocked to find that one could be so far away from the surface of earth, from daylight.

What had I done?

Ceaser walked in a spiral downwards for what felt like an even longer amount of time than the time that I had spent inside the carriage.

I felt the dampness of the air penetrate me through the thick cloak that was warming me. It reminded me of my trip to the beach. Raoul. I had left him in such a state and now who knew what would come of me? I hoped he would not blame himself for anything that came to happen.

Ceaser stopped. The man disguised as the opera ghost swung himself swiftly from the horse, abruptly throwing me back into the cold air. I instinctively clutched my arms to myself. I was gently hoisted by my waist down to the ground, or what I thought was the ground until I felt the wobble and heard the gently sputter of water. We were on water. My eyes widened as I imagined myself a passenger to Charon.

I was guided to sit on a bench inside the small boat. My eyes still could not adjust. I was blind and floating.

Another agonizingly long journey took us through the damp air until the boat lightly bumped into a hard surface. I was picked up again and carried this time for a period. When I wasn't set down immediately I let my arm wrap around the shoulders of the man so that I was not tucked like a baby into his arms. I heard a mechanical type of movement when he came to a stop. A dimly lit room was a thankful sight.

He took another step in and set me down. I looked around the room first, it was finely decorated, flowers upon flowers lined the room and a gorgeous newly lined couch rested against a wall with a painting of a sultan or some sort of royal man hung above it. The mechanical sound sounded again cutting off the sound of the caverns we had just been in. I stiffened and turned slowly to find the eyes of the man. I could SEE him.

A black mask covering a face that peered at me with golden eyes. Dark hair almost blended into the mask and into his long coat. His cloak was resting on a coat rack just next to the door along with a top hat. I had an odd thought about the manners of a ghost owning a coat rack. He took a step forward and I stumbled backwards. My legs hit the couch and I collapsed down onto it. Gripping the arm of it as if bracing to fall.

He took another step forward and I noted the disproportion of his height to his weight. He was taller than any man I had crossed paths with yet his fingers resembled bone more than a skeleton.

He seemed to be at a loss for words just as I was.

"Do not be afraid. I am not a ghost. I am not a phantom," his eyes almost showed me sadness before he continued, "and I am not an angel… I am Erik."

"Erik," I repeated the word as if it was only sound and had no meaning. The pain of the betrayal must have crossed my face as he threw himself backwards. His hand covering the shame that lie behind the mask

"Why did you lie to me… trick me?" I was fearful at the madness of the man who was before me.

"Erik pretended to be Christine's angel… because he loves her." The chill broke into the warm room and ran up my body. I had no words.

"Erik had heard Christine praying in her room one day and knew her lonliness." I closed my eyes as my own tears started to flow down my face once more. I knew the day he spoke of, the day just after Mama Valerius passing. I had no where else to stay that night and took Madam Giry's offer to sleep on a cot in my dressing room until I could establish a modest flat for myself. I prayed for hours to my father, to god, to my mother, to my mama, and to the angel. I had heard him for the first time that night. I had thought it was just one of the other singers with the company but it had been him. He sang me a sweet lullaby and I cried into her pillow. "Erik wanted to be her friend but did not want to scare her."

I looked at him. He almost looked childlike as he sulked in his despair against the wall. I thought back to the long discussions in my dressing rooms as if we had always been lifetime friends. I had previously thought that he had perhaps always been with me as my guardian angel, then thought that when Mama Valerius passed that God had granted him the rite to speak to me. He was my friend.

I could hear it in his voice as he talked to me. I could feel the same presence I always had through my fear. I felt that I was once again with my angel, and not in the presence of the ghost that terrified the dreams of the ballet girls.

"I will continue to be your friend, Erik."

He lifted his eyes to me which I could barely see through the dim lighting of the room. "But there will be no more lies!" I demanded, remembering the courage that had taken me over earlier.

"Oh, Christine." He bowed his head once more.

"Promise me, Erik. No more lying."

"Erik promises, he promises to never lie to his Christine again."

We stared at each other for so long, inspecting each other, his eyes burning yellow in the dark. The rumors of his hair were false. His hair was thick and soft looking, not at all whispy as Meg Giry had excitedly told the girls in the halls to frighten them. He was ghastly thin. That I could understand the comparison of the skeleton to. But his eyes were hard to place. Earlier I had seen how they could appear as the stones of death that I had heard so many people describe them as, however in the light the warmth of his eyes was gentle and almost adoring.

I wondered if the rumors of what was underneath his mask were true. She wanted to see what Erik looked like. See who he was.

"Erik…" I blushed, wondering the propriety of the question.

I stopped speaking when he closed his eyes, reveling in something.

"Could I see your face. So that we may truly meet each other," his gaze shifted into a cooler tone and distant from the emotional wreck he had just rescued himself from. "Properly," I added.

He would not speak for several moments.

"Christine may not ever see what lay behind this mask."

"Is a mask nothing more than a lie to what lay beneath?"

"A mask is nothing more than a piece of clothing and one would not ask another to remove their stockings so to see the skin beneath."

I blushed at the comparison, from shame and the crudeness of his words.

Erik noticed.

"Why did you bring me down here to reveal yourself to me?"

Erik stood to his feet and crossed the room to one of the bouquets of flowers. He twiddled with a flower before speaking. "Erik was afraid of Christine's reaction and did not want others in the Opera House to make the situation worse than it would have been." He plucked one of the roses from the bouquet and began to pull the thorns off one by one. "He planned on making his home better suited for Christine before she came, he has not had the chance to buy her her things."

Christine looked around and wondered what the other doors in the room led to. Was this Erik's home? Did he live here, so far from the sun? That must have been why his skin seemed so white yet dull.

"My things?"

"So that she may stay here comfortably." At that I snapped my head back to his to find him holding a dethorned rose out to me. It was beautiful and brightly red, but it was only a mask to what he had just insinuated.

"I don't think I understand." I took the rose, but did not bring it to my nose to smell its sweetness.

"Christine will stay for only a short time so that she may get to know Erik." I shook my head.

"I cannot stay here Erik." There was a slight panic in my voice. He put his hands in his pockets like a grumpy child.

"Five days. That is all." There was finality in his voice that I couldn't understand. I was a prisoner, not a guest.

"People will be worried."

"You are suspected to be on vacation at the moment." His voice was stern. He fiddled with his fingers by his side. I was surprised to hear myself spoken of directly opposed to in the third person.

It seemed more threatening. I wouldn't speak. The ball in my throat had risen and forced tears to blur my vision. To distract myself I brought the rose up to inhale a small pleasure. I exhaled my worry.

"Lovely," I sighed.

"Quite." Erik was staring at me and not the rose. "Is Christine tired?"

I nodded my head. There had been so much emotional excitement that I felt as though I had never slept before in my life.

"Erik will show Christine to her room." He acknowledged to a door in the room. I stood and brought the flower with me.

When he opened the door the gaslight in the hall lit on its own. I ceased walking.

"It is a simple mechanic that I installed, do not be afraid. There is no such thing as ghosts." He knew exactly where my mind had gone before I did. I let out a nervous laugh at his statement.

He cocked his head to the side, waiting for me to continue walking.

"Until ten minutes ago to me you were either the Opera Ghost or an angel."

"Ah."

Ah, indeed.

He unlocked a door with a single key which was separate from the chain of keys he used to unlock the hallway door.

He held the door open for me but would not step inside. I walked into a beautifully decorated room. There were deep blues accented by bright but pretty yellows. Blue was my favorite color. I commonly used blue ribbons in my hair.

"This room is yours and therefore you have power over it." He held the key out to me. "There is only one key I made, you may use it as you wish. The door locks from both sides so when you leave you may lock it behind you and I will not be able to enter." I doubted that a locked door would stop him after he invented a self-lighting gas lamp! "I will leave you to nap for a bit while I pick up the luxuries I had hoped to already have set up for you. I will be back at 6pm with a meal prepared and clothing for you to sort through and put away."

"Thank you, this is all so generous." I remembered that the Phantom of the Opera had been stealing a monthly stipend from the managers for many years, so I supposed that money was not an obstacle for him at the moment.

"It is nothing of concern, sleep well Christine." I almost closed my eyes when he said my name. It was like a lullaby.

He shut the door behind him allowing me to take in everything. There was a fireplace that already had wood set up in it, ready to be lit and a few gas lamps as well as several candles. He knew my fear of the dark, this room had been the most illuminated by far.

There was a silver hair brush with my name engraved in pretty letters on the back. A sweetly scented perfume was already filled on the vanity as well. There was no mirror in the room except for a small hand held one that I found in the drawer of the vanity. It was plain, unlike anything else in the room. He did not spend much time picking out my mirror as he had everything else. I looked around more and found gorgeous ribbons for my hair, all the undergarments I could ever ask for, and enough socks to last me a lifetime. There were a few books that I had loved my entire life and a few that I knew I would happily read during my stay here.

I inspected another door in the room and found it to be a prettily decorated bathroom. The tub had bath salts and various flower petals inside jars that all smelled heavenly. This man whose face I had never seen knew everything about me. What smells I enjoyed, what colors I favored, what texture of socks I found most comfortable, and even what books I favored. He knew all this from only three months of speaking with me through a wall. I thought back to his words earlier. 'because he loves her.'

Could this man actually love me? Was it the love that young men proclaim to young women as means to woo them into their beds but not to their marital bed, was it the love that one feels for just their friend, or was it the love that one might feel for their pupil?

It was too much for me to think about at the moment. I removed the top layer of my dress and loosened my corset just enough for me to breath comfortably. I locked the door before I removed my shoes and lay down on the plush, large mattress.

Sleep came too swiftly for me to notice I had even shut my eyes.


End file.
